


Young Francis

by SnowSlayer



Category: Samurai Jack (Cartoon)
Genre: Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-07 14:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21459694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowSlayer/pseuds/SnowSlayer
Summary: Prequel to "Franmouche." Francis is trapped working as a sexbot for his abusive creator, Le Coquelicot. He is convinced there is no other future for him as he is forced to take increasingly sadistic clients until he begins self-defense lessons and fancies the life of a bounty hunter.
Kudos: 4





	1. Easy Training

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to SalaciousShipping and SapphireSins for allowing me to borrow Francis! You can find more information about Salacious Shipping's artwork here (https://twitter.com/salaciousships?lang=en).

Easy Training

“You need to hold this position. Don’t keep pulling away,” Le Coquelicot demanded, tightening his grasp on Francis’ hips and pulling him back.

“I’m sorry,” Francis muttered, trying to remember to pulse his port against Le Coquelicot’s member. He reared back on his knees. After another ten minutes, he was scolded again as his face dropped back into the bed.

“Stop shying away! Your clients aren’t going to want readjust every couple of minutes because you can’t stay put. You also need to start participating.”

“Please, sir, I’m tired. I’m sore!” Two fingers writhed in next to Le Coquelicot’s member. Francis let out a yelp of pain as his port was stretched too quickly. Le Coquelicot repeated the motion twice more to make sure his point was across.

“It’s only been an hour. You will eventually be working all night. I know you still need to build stamina, but no one wants to hear you complain.” Francis bit down his next gripe and started rocking his hips back into Le Coquelicot’s thrusts. It had only been a couple of weeks since he had been fully activated, but Le Coquelicot was rapidly pushing forward on the training. The night before had been a test of port endurance, leaving Francis vomiting after only a few hours of stretching and prodding. _Why can’t training be as painless as it was the first few days? This can’t be necessary!_

A whimper bubbled up out of Francis’ throat, but he kept pushing back into the constant thrusts. Fear started to eat at him as Le Coquelicot began to readjust on his own accord. His creator leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Francis’ waist. Francis let out a soft noise of surprise as a hand brushed against his attachment. A few strokes proved that it was not just an accident.

“When you are a good girl, I will reward you,” Le Coquelicot murmured, teasing his fingers up and down the attachment. _No. I’m not a girl!_ Yet, Francis bit his tongue, moaning aloud as the fingers pressed on the sweet spot near his tip. Feeling so much pleasure was a rare treat, and he would hate to spoil it with a stupid comment that his creator would only deny or worse, use the trigger word again. It had only happened once, but Francis hated being so confused and unable to function. He swore he would not put up with it again.

Soon, the quickening hand movements drew out a louder moan. They were cutting into Francis’ concentration as his pace faltered and his hips jutted forward against the stimulation.

“If you can’t focus on your job, I will have to stop,” Le Coquelicot warned. His fingers slid off to the side, lazily tracing the connection above the hip plate. Refusing to be reduced to begging, Francis forced himself back again. The port clenched around the member until Le Coquelicot finally released a soft note of approval.

The fingers returned, causing Francis to arch his back with a delighted purr. They moved roughly, putting pressure on the pleasure center before they slid against the full length of his attachment.

“Go ahead. You can moan and grunt. You’ll learn to do that even when they only use your port if that’s what your clients want to hear. Always beg for them to go harder.” No longer smothering his pleasure, Francis tossed his head back. His cries came in chirps of pleasure at each stroke. With his hands clawing at the sheets, Francis shouted in ecstasy as his hips thrusted forward again, his artificial fluids spraying across the sheets.

“Pathetic. The clients are supposed to cum first.” The thumb pressed against the oversensitive pleasure center on his tip, causing his port to tighten in response. Le Coquelicot grunted, scolding him again before pulling out.

“On your back. Clearly you can’t focus on this position tonight. I’ll have to tie you up to keep you still at this rate. We’ll try one of the toys later. I’d still like to finish, if you don’t mind.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Francis whimpered, complying at once. As he had been taught, he spread his legs and pulled his knees up to his chest, securing each with a hand gripping his thighs.

“It’s good to see you’re learning something.” Le Coquelicot positioned himself between Francis’ legs, locking his hands on Francis’ hip. The first rough thrust inside brought a soft grunt before Francis went quiet. Unlike the unyielding toys Le Coquelicot used, the motions were not incredibly painful, even when Francis tightened his port around his creator. After a few minutes, Francis could tell Le Coquelicot was still dissatisfied.

“And what do you say?” Francis closed his eyes so as not to be reprimanded for rolling his eyes.

“Harder, sir. Please pound into me.”

“A little enthusiasm would be nice.” Francis swallowed down the sigh and tried again.

“You feel so nice! Aah, aah! Harder! Yes! Faster, sir!” Francis mewed the fake noises of pleasure until a genuine one slipped out. Le Coquelicot let the tip of Francis’ attachment rub against his palm as he massaged the pleasure center near the tip again with his middle finger.

“Very good, my little flower! Isn’t this so much better when you cooperate?” Unable to answer, Francis tried to keep his focus on his task as he felt his own hands slipping. He fortified his grip on his thighs as he moaned in bliss again.

“Now, I’m going to make you a proposition. We can make this a nice and easy night, as long as you don’t cum before I do _or_ we can continue training until you learn to put off your pleasure until the client is satisfied. It doesn’t matter to me what we do. The choice is up to you.”

“But I’m s-so close, sir!” Francis whined, his fingers tightening uncomfortably on his own legs.

“And I should have already came, but whose fault is that? You can wait.” The cries of pleasure still fell from his lips, but Francis restrained himself. Several drops of fluid made their way through his attachment. They smeared into Le Coquelicot’s hand as he kneaded the tip.

“Please, sir.” The shaky plea came, but even Francis did not know what he was begging for. Finally, fluids filled his port.

“My love, you exceeded my expectations! You may cum now.” Not needing to be told twice, he released his load into Le Coquelicot’s hand with a blissful shout.

“We will call it a night, but do not get used to these short sessions. Clients will rent you out for no less than two hours, and you can bet you’ll not have a moment’s rest during them.” Le Coquelicot brought his soiled hands to Francis’ lips. As expected, Francis lapped at his own fluids until Le Coquelicot bored of him.

“Rest, my little flower. We have a lot to do tomorrow. I expect you to be ready by next week so that you can start paying your fair share of the rent.”


	2. Complaints

Complaints

A sharp whine fell from his lips as several rough thrusts irritated the same location along the inside of his port.

“Please, sir. Not so fast!” Francis finally begged, his fingers clawing into the bedsheet as his port trembled in pain. Instead, the thrusts sped, nearly hitting the end of his port. Francis let out another plea before his client leaned forward to tangle a hand in his hair.

“You’re real mouthy, slut. I should’ve started there and ripped your tongue out when I was done,” Ed snapped. Francis’ head was pushed face first into the bed as Ed rutted into him with all the force he could muster. “Wish you were human so I could choke some sense into you. Someone ought to teach you how to hold your tongue.” His large hand forced through the hair and thick fingers wrapped around Francis’ throat. Although breathing was not an issue, Francis feared as the plates groaned with the exerted force. Trying to ignore it, Francis held tight to the sheets, pulsing his port as much as he could with the rough movements to try and finish off his client.

It was not his intention, but Francis could not help himself. Ed had come in at a sharp angle, grinding hard against the scuffed side of his port, and wringing a pained cry as Francis flattened on the bed. Losing his balance, Ed fell on top of him.

“You can’t do anything fucking right!” Ed continued to curse him as he pulled out. Even as Francis spluttered an apology, he was forced roughly onto his back. Ed seized his ankles and yanked him towards the foot of the bed until Francis hips were at the edge. Using the bindings attached to the bed posts at his shoulder level, Ed secured both of Francis’ ankles so that his legs were held straight out.

Francis cried out as Ed slammed inside of him. Francis tried to readjust, but Ed forced his hips still. As soon as he opened his mouth to beg Ed to slow down, Ed back handed him.

“Shut up, slut! All you’ve done is complain, you worthless piece of scrap. I don’t even know why your creator keeps you around. You’re hardly a pretty sight and you _never_ shut up! I would have had you compacted the moment you were activated.” Ed pulled all the way out, letting the port close slightly before he forced himself back in. He repeated this for a long while, slapping Francis if he dared to make a sound. By the time there were a few raps at the door to give Ed a five minute warning, Francis’ face had numerous scuffs and his lower jaw was slightly dislocated. Darkened oil seeped over his lower lip and trickled down his chin. Ed threw his full weight into the last thrusts before he came. After a few last hard thrusts, he finally pulled out and redressed before taking his leave.

When the door was slammed behind Ed, Francis finally let out the sob he had been swallowing down. Unable to stop crying, the oil began bubbling over his lips faster. He pressed his hands to his mouth to try and stifle the sound, an irrational fear that Ed would return haunting him. The door was whisked back open after a few minutes.

“Are you just going sit like that for the next hour or are you going to make yourself presentable for your next client?” Le Coquelicot barked. He approached the side of the bed before arching an eyebrow in concern.

“Are you injured, my flower?” Francis managed to shake his head as trembles racked his body.

“Then what is the problem?” The harsh tone had returned. Le Coquelicot stepped up between his legs and pressed his fingers inside to feel around the track. “There’s a slight scuff, but that is nothing to cry over. Knock it off.” Francis focused on smothering his cries again as Le Coquelicot untied his legs and let his feet drop to the floor.

“Something looks wrong with you jaw. Move your hands,” Le Coquelicot commanded. The oil stained palms came away from his quivering lips. Wiping the burnt oil away, Le Coquelicot readjusted his jaw so it clicked back into place.

“Are you … are you going to dispose of me?” Francis finally whimpered.

“No. Why would you think that?” The answer was another shake of his head. With a sigh, Le Coquelicot perched on the edge of the bed. A tired hand stroked through Francis’ hair.

“Ignore whatever the clients say, unless it’s a command. It’s something you have to get used to. You do need to learn to hold your tongue. Ed was quite displeased with the amount of complaining. If you don’t learn how to say the right things, I’ll have to give you something to complain about. Now, finish cleaning up.” Francis finally trudged to his feet and changed out of the lingerie soaked with the burnt oil and artificial fluids. Le Coquelicot watched until he was satisfied that Francis was no longer in the stupor from working for Ed, leaving to meet his guest in the foyer. Francis redressed and straightened out the sheets before lounging on the bed to appeal to the next client. Once the door knob rattled, he put on a softer expression and prepared himself for another round.


	3. Open House

Open House

Le Coquelicot secured the last cord on the bedpost. Unable to help himself, Francis tested the slack, finding he could move his spread knees no more than a few centimeters closer together. His wrists had been bound and pulled behind his head, the rope tied tightly to the headboard.

“Comfortable?” Le Coquelicot teased as he smoothed down the lacey ends of the sheer stockings. “You’ll be like this for the next three or four hours. If you’re lucky, someone will rent you out for the rest of the night. Otherwise, we’ll just keep the open house going all night. Try to make a good first impression. I expect a lot of these fine gentlemen will be your clients.”

“Yes, sir,” Francis murmured. He absently tugged at the cords as Le Coquelicot finished adjusting the lingerie on his chest and arms.

“Don’t fidget, my little flower. You’ve had a few clients. This is no different, except you’ll have more clients for a shorter time. We have to drum up some more business for you. Everyone goes through these open house procedures. Relax, put on a charming expression, and remember your training. These are all potential clients, and what do we do for them?”

“Always satisfy them!”

“Very good, Mon Amour!” Le Coquelicot tilted Francis’ chin up. The gentle kiss went on longer than usual and Francis found himself calming a bit even as Le Coquelicot pulled away. “Our guests will be here soon. I will talk to them regarding prices and proceedings, and then come up for the demonstrations. You don’t have to worry about making sure they do not use a service they did not pay for, as I will be here to moderate. Just focus on converting them into repeat clients.” Another shorter kiss was pressed to his forehead.

Francis closed his eyes for a few minutes once he was left alone. He went over everything Le Coquelicot had told him, preparing for the initial inspection before clients paid for a short session with him. He found himself pulling against the restraints again. _At least they will keep me in place. It’s far less likely that I will make as many mistakes and the risk of punishment should dwindle considerably!_ Francis reminded himself hopefully. There was a sharp knock, and Francis plastered a warm smile on his face.

Le Coquelicot began by describing Francis’ build, a steady hand on Francis shoulder as the robot found himself shaking slightly. The crowd was larger than Francis expected, consisting of fourteen robots of various heights and builds. They were less impressed with the details, but perked up as Le Coquelicot made his way towards the foot of the bed. A single finger slipped beneath the underwear – the only piece of his outfit that was not sheer – starting near his lower port and slowly gliding up over his front port and the underside of his attachment. With a painfully slow show, the underwear was finally drawn to the side, revealing his attachment and ports.

A murmur of interest sprang up. Reminding them of the two finger rule, Le Coquelicot invited them to come up in groups of two or three to better inspect his wares so long as no more than two fingers at a time were inserted in either port. The first group surged forward, and Francis was surprised at how orderly they were, until he figured that they probably paid a little extra to secure their positions in line. Fingers trailed down his legs and hips, prodding at his attachment before plunging into his ports. As the groups rotated through, some of the guests took interest in his nipples, roughly rubbing on them through the material. Hands pulled at his jaw, inspecting his mouth and throat. Once they had all completed their initial inspection, they stepped away.

A member of the first group requested the front port. Le Coquelicot entered the information in his tablet before gesturing towards Francis. The slender robot mounted Francis in a heartbeat, sinking his long attachment in to the hilt. Francis could not help the chirp of surprise as the tip struck the end of his port. Hoping his lack of participating would go unnoticed, Francis pulsed his port against the long strokes.

“Ooh, yes! Tighter, you slut!” Francis clinched his port, hiding the look of discomfort on his face with a strained smile. The attachment jerked back and forth through the tight opening, wringing out quick moans from the client as he rutted into Francis harder. Eventually, the client was given a two-minute warning, and he picked up the pace.

Throughout the ordeal, Francis had let the fake moans fall from his lips. Another gasp of surprise was emitted at the rapid pace. Francis involuntarily pulled his knees as close together as he could, but the rope gave him no slack to find relief. With a grunt to the ceiling, the first batch of artificial fluids splashed into his port. As the client jerked free, the fluids began to spill out from the port and drip around his rear port. Another member of the first group stepped forward, requesting the same as his predecessor.

Like the first, he plunged in, and Francis remembered that was likely to occur due to the shortened time limit. _There’s no time for foreplay._ Francis might have chuckled at the thought of these well-dressed robots acting like animals once they got their turn had he not been so worried about running out of energy. With a regular session, the clients usually started out a bit slower to work their way up to the grand finale, rather than just try to unload the artificial fluids into him as fast as possible. The second client did not have quite as long an attachment. Nevertheless, he was equally as fast.

The second stouter robot forced himself in at breakneck speed, sliding rapidly along the bottom edge. Francis could tell the client had activated his own pleasure center as a wave of delight crossed the client’s features. Hands tightened at Francis’ hips as he switched to shorter thrusts, rapidly working his own pleasure center. He finished with a minute to spare in his allotted time, opting to slowly milk himself dry at Francis’ tight port.

The third opted to follow the same routine, but a member of a later group requested use of Francis’ mouth. The third agreed to going at the same time. One attachment plunged into his well-used port as the other knelt on his chest. He opened his mouth willingly, jumping right in to the part his clients typically liked best. The attachment was suckled as Francis’ tongue frantically prodded about the shaft, finding the pleasure centers within a minute and working them diligently. His head was jerked forward and back as his pursed lips grazed about the length. Francis still managed to pulse his port in rhythm with the client pounding into him.

Artificial fluids gushed out of his port when the third client left. The client with the attachment deep into his throat finished a few seconds later, Francis swallowing nearly every drop as the client rolled off of him. Le Coquelicot took a few moments to wipe up some of the spilled fluids, but Francis could feel some still sloshing inside of him as the fourth client went to town.

The circuits burned by the time the sixth client violated him. While Francis had proven that he could go long hours with a single client, the speed and lack of recovery time of the open house was becoming exhausting. He knew better than to let the clients see anything that indicated a lack of stamina. Fear at the potential failure still gnawed at him as the sixth client struck the end of his port and filled him once more.

“I want the rear port.” Although Francis typically preferred when clients used the front port, since it was slightly larger, and thus at a lower risk of sustaining injury, he perked up at the idea of letting his front port rest for a moment. His hope of respite evaporated instantly as he caught sight of the massive attachment. It was the largest of the night. Even Le Coquelicot cast a skeptical glance at Francis’ port before bidding him continue.

Hastily, Francis secreted a larger than allowed amount of lubricant to the rear port. Francis thanked Aku that the client initially showed some decency. The thick attachment eased in slowly at first, still uncomfortably tight no matter how much Francis relaxed his port. It pressed to the end, leaving Francis horrified as two centimeters still remained on the outside of his port. The attachment was drawn back out slowly. It entered Francis at a faster rate, gradually building to the speed at which the other clients had started.

Francis’ façade broke. He let out a whimper as the tip of the attachment pounded the end of his port. His knees pulled together again only for both of his legs to be pushed far apart. He did not pulse his port. He could not. The fluids nearly splattered back on the client as quick as they rushed into Francis’ port as the tight space did not allow for them to remain inside of the port.

His legs trembled as the eighth client reverted back to using the front port. Francis would have chuckled if he had not been trying to keep the oil from rising up his throat as the client offered him a silent apology for the previous client in the form of a quick handjob. It was enough to allow Francis to spray the artificial fluids across his own chest, which Le Coquelicot quickly wiped away.

All but two clients had ended up using him. Some had been repeats, either testing his mouth or having another go at his ports. A few others had paid the extra to use his rear port, but he was thankful the largest client had not requested seconds on either port. Le Coquelicot invited the guests back downstairs to share a glass of wine and discuss future bookings, leaving Francis to lay trembling on the bed. His ports quivered at the excessive use, the artificial fluids continuously draining out of him and onto the sheets.

He smothered the startled yelp as the door was opened again, trying to force on his charming expression. Le Coquelicot briskly made his way to the foot of the bed, getting down on his knees to peer inside the ports. He ran his fingers along the inner edge, searching for any loosened joints before dipping his fingers deeper. Satisfied with his findings in the front port, he took a deep breath, and began exploring the rear.

“It looks like there’s no damage,” he sighed in relief. Rising back to his feet, he undid the bindings closest to him. Francis’ knees snapped together at the freedom and he squeezed his ports closed to try and ease some of the physical stress. Le Coquelicot made his way to the headboard, releasing Francis’ arms.

“You do not have any more work tonight.” Francis felt his spirits sink at the remark. _Then I’ll have a session in punishment, won’t I? _The apologies died on his lips as Le Coquelicot laid down next to him and pulled Francis’ head against his chest.

“You did very well and you have quite a full schedule for the next few weeks. We have full nights booked for the next ten days and the rest after that are half booked or better. You need to rest tonight. Now listen to me: no one in the next few days has paid to use your rear port. Do you understand me? No one is allowed, unless I tell you otherwise. You are not to let them use it unless they pay the premium first.”

“Yes, sir. I know the rules.”

“You are _not _allowed to let them penetrate your rear port, even if they want to finger it, understand?”

“Yes, sir. We’ve gone over this before and—”

“You are not very good about obeying all of my commands,” Le Coquelicot accused. Realizing his harsh tone, he instead began stroking Francis’ cheek. “I do not want you hurt, my little flower. This is a lot of new clients, so I wanted to make sure you will obey all the rules.” Francis nodded. Le Coquelicot held him for a long while, urging him to sleep, and Francis was happy to oblige.


	4. Surprise Inspection

Surprise Inspection

“Don’t get too comfortable just yet.” A startled gasp left his lips as Francis cringed. On a typical night, Gregoire would make sure that Francis arrived home or, if Francis was late, wake Le Coquelicot to inform him of the tardiness. Francis’ meal would be waiting for him on the table as Gregoire retired for recharge oftentimes without a word being exchanged. Tonight, Le Coquelicot sat waiting in the living room.

“I’m on time,” Francis insisted, checking his phone to confirm his statement.

“You’re awfully jumpy,” Le Coquelicot snickered, rising to his feet and gliding across the room. The slender fingers teased along Francis’ chest before sliding up. They grazed along his bare shoulders before Francis’ left dress strap was eased over his shoulder. A tremble shot through Francis, part fear and part confusion. _What did I do wrong?_

The right strap followed suit as Le Coquelicot took a step closer. As Francis tried to reestablish space between then, Le Coquelicot pressed on until Francis found himself backed against the front door.

“What’s wrong, my little flower?” Before Francis could answer, Le Coquelicot leaned in, forcing his tongue in Francis’ mouth. _He’s gotten into the wine,_ Francis found himself smiling a little as he let Le Coquelicot dominate his mouth.

“Consider this a surprise inspection,” Le Coquelicot drawled as he nipped at Francis’ lower lip. Easing him away from the door, one hand dipped across his chest before reaching behind Francis’ back. The zipper was lowered steadily. Le Coquelicot pushed the fabric away, letting the dress pool at Francis’ feet once it was worked over his hips. An exploring hand came up between Francis legs. The fingers grazed across the laced edges before one finger slid underneath, teasing along Francis’ attachment. As he pressed on the pleasure center near the tip, Francis could not help but lean into the touch.

“When’s the last time?” Le Coquelicot chided, drawing off the fabric so he could better stroke the full length.

“S-six days,” Francis stuttered. _And that one was ruined. It’s been a week and a half since it felt nice._ His hips jerked forward on their own accord as his attachment stiffened. A gasp followed as the fingers fell away, harmlessly trailing down his thigh before coming back up to his bare chest.

“Where’s your bra?” The accusation was gentle, paired with a devilish smirk.

“I … forgot it.”

“How scandalous! What would the clients think?” Francis was pushed back against the door again as Le Coquelicot teased his nipples with his fingers, grinding a knee up into his crotch.

“They didn’t mind it!” France shuttered, a shaking moan following it as he tried to keep still.

“And no garter belt again?” The knee was lowered as soon as Francis could no longer fight the involuntary urge to thrust forward. Francis did not dare utter that he hated wearing it.

“You’re not fairing so well, Mon Amour. Perhaps you want to prepare a bit better? Go up and put on your full ensemble. I’ll be up in five minutes.”

“Yes, sir.” Francis scampered away as soon as Le Coquelicot backed up a step. He snagged his dress from the ground and bolted up the stairs, not caring if he woke the other occupants in the house. Balling up the garment, he tossed it in the corner, clawing through his drawers to find the black silk bra that Le Coquelicot liked best. Once that was put on, he found the matching garter belt to his stockings. 

A glance in the mirror left him frowning. _Shit, what’s missing?_ He readjusted his underwear over his semi-stiff attachment, grunting as his fingers grazed the throbbing metal.

“Gloves!” he muttered aloud. He pulled on the black elbow length gloves, forcing himself to slow down so as not to damage them. Satisfied with his appearance, he arranged himself seductively on the bed.

“Much better, my little flower! Look how gorgeous you can be!” Francis felt his eyes twitch to the case in Le Coquelicot’s hand. Trying to ignore the apprehension, he laid back, offering himself to Le Coquelicot. _Please, don’t hurt me again!_ The black case was placed on the bed next to his hips before Le Coquelicot crawled up from the foot. The slender fingers trailed up his legs and along the garter belt straps as Le Coquelicot gave a pleased hum.

The gloved hands clawed into the sheets as his attachment was released again. Fingers teased along the pleasure centers just long enough to leave Francis moaning in discomfort when they disappeared. The underwear was shifted further to the side, revealing the two ports.

“Don’t lubricate them just yet,” Le Coquelicot murmured as he dipped his fingers inside the front port. They explored gently, feeling for any scuffs or deep gauges. After running along the rim, they migrated down to the rear port. The procedure was repeated.

“I bought something new for you.” The soothing words nearly seized up some of Francis’ circuitry as Le Coquelicot clicked open the case. At leave Francis knew what to expect with the usual arsenal Le Coquelicot used on him. Francis watched as Le Coquelicot pulled a strange glove with electrodes near the finger tips over his right hand. Le Coquelicot tested his fingers a few times before turning on the machine still in the case. It gently purred to life with a low buzz. Francis followed the glove intently as he came near his bare abdomen just above the garter belt.

He tensed at the initial touch. Blinking a few times in confusion, he realized it felt nice for a change. As his body relaxed, he focused on the sensation. The gentle pulse of electricity seeped into his system. Le Coquelicot began to trail his hands in small circles. The tension and stress melted away in the area, and Francis could feel a pleased hum building up in his throat. Francis gave a slight jolt as one finger dipped into his naval, drawing a chuckle out from Le Coquelicot.

The hand rounded his hips, lolling along the outside of his left thigh before trailing up the inside of the left and back down the inside of the right. The trip was completed with a swipe up the outside of the right. Le Coquelicot trailed one finger just below the erect attachment.

“Mmmn!” Francis bit into his lower lip as the finger slid up the underside of his attachment. A second finger was added as they glided around the head a few times before coming down along the top of his attachment. It was all Francis could do to keep his legs flat on the bed and not thrust up into the gentle touch.

“I take it this is something you like?” Francis nodded vigorously, squeezing his eyes closed as if it could hold in the building moan inside of him. Cumming too soon was always punishable. The fingers came back to the tip, two fingers resting heavily on the pleasure center. Once the center was activated, the full hand wrapped around the length and slowly pumped his attachment. Le Coquelicot made sure to tease around the second pleasure center at the base. When it was also activated, Francis’ resolve broke.

“P-please! I – I AHH!” Le Coquelicot let out a full blown laugh, covering the tip with his left hand and a cloth.

“Alright, you may cum.” Francis’ hips jerked off the bed a few times as his attachment throbbed in Le Coquelicot’s hands. He gave a shout at the first gush of fluids, another shuttering moan following as he released a second wave. Both ports quivered at the force of the orgasm.

Francis’ head lolled to the side as his body went limp. Had the hand not been tracing seductive circles along the rim of his ports, Francis surely would have slipped into stasis at the overwhelming pleasure. Two fingers slipped into each port. Wanting to let his creator know just how good it felt in his ports, Francis opened his mouth to speak. All that came from his lips was a garbled murmur.

“This is top of the line,” Le Coquelicot beamed. “You won’t find something of this quality at just any massage parlor.” Finished with the ports, Le Coquelicot worked his way down each leg. By the time he crawled back up to sit at Francis’ hips, the robots eyes had nearly gone dark. The dim blue eyes flickered a bit as Le Coquelicot mounted him.

“Prepare your front port for me,” Le Coquelicot purred, caressing Francis’ side. Managing a single nod, Francis released some lubricant to his front port. Le Coquelicot unbuttoned his pants, resting his weight on Francis as he stroked himself with his non-gloved hand.

The member slid inside the port. Francis immediately began pulsing his port against the intrusion, wringing out a moan from his creator within a few minutes of penetration. Shallow thrusts continued for a while. Once Le Coquelicot readjusted himself, he began working along Francis’ shoulders. On the opposite he was massaging with his gloved hand, Le Coquelicot would press his lips to the metal along the curve between Francis neck and shoulder. After spending considerable time on each shoulder, he wove his hand under Francis’ neck, running his gloved fingers from the connection below Francis’ head to the top of his back.

A soft moan fell from Le Coquelicot’s lips again as he began kissing the underside of Francis’ jaw. The thrusts sped slightly.

“Close your eyes, my little flower. Relax!” Le Coquelicot’s tongue pressed between Francis’ slightly parted lips. Le Coquelicot explored languidly. The gloved hand gingerly stroked Francis’ left cheek, roaming around his temple and weaving through his hair before coming back to glide along the jaw. The other side of Francis’ face received the same attention before Le Coquelicot finally pulled off the glove. Holding tight to Francis’ shoulders, he rose up on his knees and toes, rutting into him faster.

Francis stopped pulsing once the thick fluid filled his port. Le Coquelicot gave a few more hearty pumps into the port before coming to a halt. His full weight rested on top of Francis as lazy fingers trailed along the edge of the bra. Francis received one last kiss on his lips before he drifted off into stasis. 


	5. Side Job

**Side Job**

The noise of surprise was stifled before it could even become a proper scream. A palm of a massive hand pressed firmly over Francis’ mouth, a second arm tightening across his waist. Even as he was lifted off the ground, Francis still kicked out.

“You’re a little jumpy, aren’t you?” A casually dressed robot stepped in front of Francis, side stepping a kick that was aimed at him. “You can stop struggling now. We’re not going to let you go.”

“All work has to be contracted through my creator,” Francis insisted sternly, wildly taking a swing with his free right arm once the hand was moved off of his mouth.

“That’s not how this works,” the larger captor laughed. He backed into an alley way, hiding them from sight of the main road that led to Le Coquelicot’s home. Pinning one of Francis’ legs to the wall, the second robot approached cautiously, taking a hold of the free leg to protect himself. He reached out towards Francis’ left hand and jerked the thumb back, painfully dislocating it.

A sharp cry of pain sounded. Francis finally stilled, trying to reach over and cradle his injured hand.

“You seem a bit new to this, so I won’t mess up your whole hand to start off. Let’s try this again. I’ll even spell it out for you. I’m Snake, and this is my friend, Bone Crusher. You’re going to service us and we’ll pay you by not dismembering you on the spot, capisce?”

“No! I’m not allowed to service anyone without my creator’s permission. Besides, I have to be home in three minutes or I’ll be punished!” Snake backed away, tapping his chin as if thinking.

“That’s just not going to work for us. You’re probably going to be a few minutes late and we don’t really want to contract anything. Now, you just hold still unless you want me to invert a few more fingers.” Bone Crusher lowered Francis so both feet were on the ground. He only left him standing for a second before wrapping an arm under each of Francis’ and locking his fingers behind Francis’ head. Lifted off the ground, Francis let his legs and arms hand limply, his hand still throbbing with the pain in his thumb.

“You’re getting the hang of this!” Snake stepped forward again, sliding his fingers under the hem of the red dress. He raised the material up over Francis’ hips.

“These will look good around your ankles,” Snake purred, teasing along the waistband of Francis’ underwear before easing it over his hips and letting it slide down Francis’ legs. It caught on Francis’ feet.

Getting down on his knees, Snake studied the ports closely, holding the attachment out of his way. He leaned in and let his tongue graze the outer rim of the front port before pressing inside to tease just along the inner edge.

“You’re not too sensitive down here, are you? Still, it looks nice. Do you want more tongue or some fingers first?”

“I don’t want anything! Put me down!” _Time’s running out! LC was very clear that tardiness would not be tolerated. _

“Suit yourself.” Snake rose to his feet and undid his pants. He stroked himself with a delighted hum before lining up with Francis’ port. Taking hold of Francis’ hips, he pressed inside.

“Tighten up a little unless you want to be here all day,” Snake murmured into Francis’ neck as he rolled his hips into Francis. _I’m so close to the house. Just another block and none of this would have happened!_ Conceding, Francis pulsed his port against the imbedded attachment, whimpering as the thrusts became faster. Snake purred, his hands slipping up Francis’ back.

“Mmm, you’re a good one. Very nicely trained.” One hand made it all the way up to the back of Francis’ head. It wove through the hair, fingers fanned along the scalp to help hold Francis still. As Snake moved to kiss him, Francis lashed out violently. Snake was forced back a step, pulling out roughly as he rubbed his side where Francis had kicked him.

“Well trained in bed, but rather stupid overall,” Snake grumbled. Bone Crusher let out a chuckle as he pinned a leg against the wall again so Snack could approach. Francis’ right thumb and two fingers on his left hand were twisted out of place as he cried out.

“You gonna go again, or do you want me to tire her out first?” Bone Crusher stepped towards the center of the alley again as Francis returned to the limp position.

“I think she’s learned her lesson.” Snake pulled the dress out of the way before he slammed inside. With one hand, Snake gripped Francis’ hips tightly. The other tangled in Francis’ hair and jerked his head forward. Their lips met in a rough kiss as Snake forced his tongue inside.

“If you even think about biting him, you’ll be going home without an attachment and arms,” Bone Crusher hissed. The strangled whimper was all Francis could produce to show that he understood. Even as a thin stream of oil began to fill Francis’ mouth, Snake did not back away. He thrusted inside harder, moaning his praise. The hand at Francis’ hips moved to the ruined left hand. Without warning, Snake squeezed the dislocated fingers.

Francis screamed into Snake’s mouth, oil spilling out the corners of his parted lips. Snake moaned back as the port clinched rapidly against him. He finally pulled back, spitting out the burnt oil from Francis as he went back to kissing along Francis’ throat.

“It feels so good when you do that,” he sneered, giving a lighter squeeze to Francis’ hand.

“S-stop! It hurts!”

“Oh, but I’m so close! You’re the best I’ve had in a while. I know you’ll be good to my friend, too, won’t you?” Francis could not answer. He sobbed quietly as the dislocated fingers were gently massaged. Finally, his phone began to ring.

“You can just let it go to voice mail,” Bone Crusher teased as Snake rutted into Francis harder. “We still have you on the clock for a good ten minutes more.” _He’ll kill me when I get home_, Francis lamented, vomiting harshly as Snake came inside of him.

“This is your first time doing side work, huh? I guess we should have cut you some more slack. Tell you what: if you please Bone Crusher here, we’ll pop your fingers back into place, maybe give you a quick blow job for your trouble, and send you on your merry way, okay?” Francis nodded absently as Snake pulled out sloppily. His feet touched the ground, but his knees collapsed from under him once Bone Crusher released him.

“That’s fine,” Bone Crusher spoke to Snake. “I don’t mind doing it on the ground.” Francis’ legs were spread apart as his hips were pulled off the ground. Bone Crusher started slowly, letting Francis adjust to the girth before speeding his thrusts. Burying his face in his arms, Francis sobbed openly.

Suddenly, Bone Crusher swore, pulling out abruptly.

“You get first dibs on the next one,” Snake promised as they took off running down the alley. Francis peeked over his arms, seeing a pair of nicer shoes running towards him. _Oh no. No, I’m sorry!_

“Are you hurt, mon amour?” Rolling to his side, Francis nodded, using the back of his hand to wipe a glob of oil off of his chin. Three fingers pressed into his port, testing the opening before sliding out.

“You’re alright. It has not collapsed. Let’s get you home and cleaned up.” Le Coquelicot slid Francis’ underwear back up to his hips and pulled him to his feet. After smoothing the dress out, he guided him back to the sidewalk and the last block to the house. Francis was bustled up to his bedroom where he was promptly stripped and laid on the bed.

“Let me see your hands.” Le Coquelicot pressed the fingers back into place gently, curling Francis’ hand into a fist to test and see if any internal wires had been severed. When Francis only let out a small chirp of pain, rather than a scream, Le Coquelicot nodded and did the same to Francis’ left thumb.

“There’s no need to cry. You’re not hurt, my little flower.” Still, Francis could not stop. The oil continued to tumble over his trembling lips as he tucked his arms against his chest and curled up into a ball.

“Francis, you are fine,” a hint of impatience had begun to lace his voice. Using all his might, Francis managed to stifle the noise yet failed to contain the oil as it began to drip off his chin and stain the bed. Sighing, Le Coquelicot finally perched on the bed and pulled his head and shoulders into his lap.

“It’s bound to happen every now and then. The best you can do is pay attention to your surroundings and try to stay out of trouble. If you get caught, just do what they tell you and move on. It’s a hazard that comes with your occupation. Please stop crying. It’s okay. You’re fine.” Closing his eyes, Francis finally nodded, relaxing a bit as Le Coquelicot began running tender fingers through his hair.

“They just came out of nowhere,” Francis whimpered.

“Can you describe them, my little flower? We can have them arrested. Will that make you feel better?” Francis nodded again.

“Let’s do that after you finish your last shift for today. Rest for an hour, then get dressed for your 3 am client.”


	6. Dissatisfied Clients

**Dissatisfied Clients**

“Well, what are you waiting for? We’ve done this before, and I’m sure you know where it goes.”

“I _did_ everything he asked. Not once during the session did he complain!” Francis insisted. He knew better than to throw the sounding rod away from him, but the desire to do so burned in his chest.

“That’s not the story I heard,” Le Coquelicot snapped. “You’re lucky he ended up paying after what he told me. If he hadn’t…” The scowl made Francis flinch. _What went wrong? I had been having such a good week. Hell, it’s been a good month! Clients were happy, some even planning to come back. He only thought he needed to reprimand me once. Why did this client have to be so difficult?_

“I’ll do better next time,” Francis promised weakly.

“You _won’t_ because there won’t be a next time. He won’t be returning. Besides, you never learn. Now, put the sounding rod in before I decide to do it myself.”

“Please, sir! I did my job. I did what he wanted. You weren’t there! He’s lying!”

“I don’t give a damn if I was there or not. If a client doesn’t leave happy, that’s going to hurt my reputation. You’ll get less work because the clients will tell their friends not to come. It’s a vicious cycle. You should already know that.” A red anger was spreading across Le Coquelicot’s face.

“Don’t make me do this again!” Francis begged. The faint taste of oil was in the back of his throat at the memory of the times before. The hand with the rod shook as he tried to keep it in his trembling fingers. “It hurts!”

“That seems to be the only way to get anything through that thick skull of yours. Don’t make me ask you again!”

“I won’t do this! It’s not fair that you’re punishing me!” Finally letting the rod fall from his hands, Francis tried to retreat to his bed. He only made it a few steps before Le Coquelicot grabbed his wrists and yanked him back in front of him.

“I BUILT YOU! You _will_ do as I say, _mon petit_ _coquelicot_.” The switch had been flipped. Francis stopped struggling, his hands dropping like lead to his sides. Without his creator holding him, he began to sway, glancing about the room as if lost.

Le Coquelicot pushed him backwards into the chair he had pulled out. Francis sat still as his creator picked up the sounding rod, wrapping Francis fingers around the instrument.

“Put it in,” Le Coquelicot hissed. With a whimper, Francis rolled the rounded end at the tip of his member. A louder chirp of pain followed as the bulbous end slipped into his attachment. “All the way.” Francis held in the whine as he inched it to the end of his attachment. A shutter shot through his body as he felt the end press against the inner seam between his attachment and body, leaving five centimeters protruding from the end of his attachment. _Why am I doing this? It hurts!_

“Good girl. Now give me your hand.” Complying, Francis limply offered his right hand. Le Coquelicot took his hand, curling Francis’ fingers around the protruding rod. Still keeping Francis’ hand in his, he jerked the rod out four centimeters before forcing it back in at the same pace. Francis cried out, begging Le Coquelicot to stop. His disobedience was rewarded with a sharp twist of the rod, causing the attachment plates to groan at the unnatural pressure forced on them.

“I didn’t say you could speak. Now, keep fucking yourself with this. I’ll be back in a minute.” With no other choice, Francis kept up the motion, biting his lip to keep in the cry of anguish.

_ Stop! Wait until you hear his footsteps to start again_, Francis screamed at himself. As expected, the rest of his body disobeyed his own commands. The rod kept pumping into his attachment, sending shards of pain through his lower half. A thin trickle of burnt oil forced its way out of the corners of his mouth by the time Le Coquelicot returned.

“Good. Make sure it’s as far as it can go and you can stop.”

“Why am I doing this?” Francis’ face was contorted in pain. He fidgeted on the chair, his hands curled into fists at his side as he studied the wires and remote in Le Coquelicot’s hand.

“Because you didn’t satisfy a client.”

“Oh.” Francis nodded, hardly remembering the last time he had worked. _Earlier today? Was it yesterday? Surely he wouldn’t wait that long to tell me._

“And you want to do better, don’t you?” _What’s the answer? Probably yes._ Francis nodded.

“And you want me to teach you to not make the same mistakes again, right?” After a timid glance as the sinister smile, Francis nodded again.

“Good girl. I knew you wanted to become better. This will help you. Clip these wires to the rod.”

“Will it hurt?” Francis took the two clips, attaching them to the protruding sounding rod.

“Of course not. Does it hurt now?” Francis considered it for a moment. The still rod was merely annoying, holding open areas that should be closed except when in use. _But it had hurt, didn’t it? Just now?_ Instead, Francis denied the pain.

“One last thing. Put your hands behind the chair, keeping your wrists close together.” Francis complied again as Le Coquelicot placed the remote that the wires were hooked to on Francis’ lap. He searched through the box of restraints until he found the pair of handcuffs. Running them under the chair legs, he secured Francis’ wrists together, preventing him from leaving the chair.

“And what are you supposed to do for the client?”

“Always satisfy them,” Francis uttered the familiar rule.

“Good girl!” Le Coquelicot placed a single kiss on Francis’ forehead. “Now you think on that for a while. I’ll be back once I think you’ve had enough.” With that, he twisted the control on the remote to high.

Francis stopped trying to hold his tongue. He let out a blood curdling scream, a torrent of oil spewing out of his mouth and down his chest. Every circuit below his waist burned viciously. As he pulled at the restraints, he heard another voice begging for release. It took him a long while to realize the shrieks were coming from his own mouth.

Sweet relief started to flood his system as he realized the rod was no longer conducting electricity. Timidly, he tilted his head up, meeting eyes with his creator.

“Took you long enough to realize I turned it off. Worse than last time, hm? Keep making mistakes and I’ll see exactly how long you can take it on high. Now, what are you supposed to do for the client?”

“Always satisfy them.” The answer came even quieter than before as Francis’ lower lip trembled.

“Keep reminding yourself. I’ll just leave it on low this time. I’ll be back.” He turned the device on again, drawing out only a pained whimper at the intensity. Resting the remote on Francis’ lap, Le Coquelicot gave him one last warning about knocking it off.

“Trust me, you won’t like the sounding rod twisting that much inside your attachment,” LC smirked before turning on his heel and closing the door behind him.

~/~

Francis had no way of knowing how long he had been sitting there. His body threw up one last time as the device was turned off. Although it was not nearly as painful as when it was set on high, it was constantly present. To try and deal with the effects, his body kept rushing oil to the location before dispelling it once it was rendered useless. He had lost count after he had thrown up five times.

A whine escaped him as the rod was extracted. The whimpers were shushed with a gentle voice and a soft hand running through his hair.

“You’ve had enough for the night. LC’s asleep. I think he forgot to come back up. How are you feeling?”

“Make it stop,” Francis groaned.

“Let me help ease the discomfort.” Bella, another one of Le Coquelicot’s creations, knelt behind Francis. With her thumb and pinky, she pressed on the two pleasure centers, activating them quickly. She brought Francis to orgasm within a minute. He cried out as he came, but felt the lingering pain start to fade.

“Do you want me to do that again?”

“Please,” Francis begged in a strained whisper.

“Alright. Let the circuits cool down for another minute. I don’t want to overload your system any more than it already is.” After she deemed enough time to have passed, Bella began the hand job again. It took a few more minutes than the first. Francis came again, his body finally relaxing after the initial, sharp pain subsided.

“Gregoire is preparing you some dinner now. You need to eat.” Bella unlocked the handcuffs before searching for a clean set of clothes as Francis wiped the burnt oil off of his frame. Francis lazily put on the pants and shirt she handed him, still swaying dangerously when he rose to his feet.

“On second thought, you should stay up here. I’m not sure I want you trying your luck on the stairs. We’ll fix you dinner in bed.” With a nod, he took the few more steps to the bed and collapsed on it. His eyes drooped closed before Bella left the room, powering off as his head hit the pillow. _They can wake me later._


	7. High-End Potential

High-End Potential

Le Coquelicot frowned at Francis as he finished braiding the robot’s hair. “You would have looked decent with the right clothes,” he muttered. A hard shove sent Francis heading in the direction of his bedroom door. They descended the stairs and headed towards the living room.

“Stand by the couch!” Le Coquelicot barked. He secured the spreader bar at Francis’ ankles and double checked that Francis’ wrists were bound tightly behind his back.

“Do not mess up this opportunity for me. If you do, last weekend will have felt like a day at the spa!” Francis nodded stiffly, his ports clinching involuntarily. After a client had demanded a partial refund, claiming Francis could not keep his ports tight enough, Le Coquelicot had hooked him up to the training machines in the basement. A censored dildo pumped into each port for an hour. Each time he let the tension in his port slack to below a certain level, ten minutes would be added to a session in punishment. Having already been through a long day with clients, Francis earned himself two hours in punishment.

He had screamed and begged Le Coquelicot to reconsider. His frantic apologies and promises to do better were ignored as the training dildos were jerked out. The attachment on the fucking machine was switched to the thick beads. He could barely control his ports the next day as they painfully spasmed from being forced open and closed too quickly during the session.

_ Don’t cum, don’t speak, don’t screw up,_ Francis reminded himself. He did not typically feel exposed even when clients completely undressed him, but he felt incredibly vulnerable as he stood wearing nothing but the restraints on his wrists and ankles.

He listened as Le Coquelicot offered wine that Francis would never be able to afford to try. They were discussing his build as Le Coquelicot and his guest, Pierre, entered the living room.

“As you can see, she’s very pleasing for both humans and robots to look at. She’s a deluxe model so she’ll be able to entertain multiple guests at once.”

“Seems like a fragile build,” Pierre suggested.

“Oh no, she’s quite resilient and can go all night.” Le Coquelicot rattled off port dimensions and other standards. Had Francis not been focusing all of his will power on keeping his knees from folding underneath him, he might have laughed at the complements Le Coquelicot was paying him. The session in punishment was plagued with Le Coquelicot telling him quite the opposite of what he proudly announced to Pierre.

Pierre walked around Francis a couple of times, examining him from head to toe. Francis was pleased that he did not flinch as Pierre ran his hands along the plating, pushing and prodding at the joints around his head. Obediently, Francis opened his mouth at Pierre’s request and later worked his jaw.

The hands explored his body. They ran over the curves, again putting pressure on areas Pierre wanted to test. For now, he bypassed Francis’ genitals, instead focusing on the hip and knee joints.

“Test whatever you need to feel confident she is the right fit for you,” Le Coquelicot encouraged. “I do have private rooms available if you would prefer.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Pierre affirmed. He knelt beside Francis, pulling a measurement device from his suit jacket pocket. He buried it deep in Francis’ front port, measuring the depth. He followed up with the rear port, nodding as his calculations matched Le Coquelicot’s. The device was manipulated a bit to measure the port width. Satisfied, he put the device away and pulled out a second cylinder device which was pressed into the front port.

“Tighten your front port until this device beeps and then hold it at that tension for thirty seconds,” Pierre demanded. Francis complied, relieved that the cylinder did not shock him. He repeated the motion with the rear port. Francis guessed that the cylinder must have provided some sort of information to Pierre’s phone as he studied the screen for a long while, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Explain to me the situation with the pleasure centers in her ports. I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Pierre requested.

“As I’m sure you can see, all pleasure centers in the ports are absent. This is to increase endurance as well as to provide absolute control of how much or how little pleasure is felt during the session. If a client does not manipulate her attachment, she will feel nothing at all.”

“That’s quite clever. A very unique build.” Pierre turned his attention to the attachment. He took length and girth measurements before doing a few test strokes. Francis kept himself calm, barely able to remain flaccid.

Biting his tongue, Francis winced silently as Pierre inserted a sounding rod down the length of the shaft. After a few moments of rotating it, he extracted the rod. Le Coquelicot demonstrated how the two pleasure centers were easily activated when standing behind Francis. The first center was located on the top of his attachment near the tip, where Le Coquelicot’s thumb rested. The second was on the underside near the base and could be easily activated by Le Coquelicot’s pinky.

“Where’s the third?” Pierre posed, pocketing his tools and rising to his feet.

“There are only two,” Le Coquelicot announced.

“You could complete the full circuit with only two?” Pierre chuckled as he marveled at the feat. “I guess that’s why you’re the master of the sex bots!”

“Could I interest you in an hour test run? On the house, of course,” Le Coquelicot was quick to add.

“Don’t waste your breath. You know I’m more interested in checking endurance in a logical manner. I’m too old to do it the old fashioned way!”

“You are hardly older than I am,” Le Coquelicot teased. He rested a hand on Francis’ shoulder, giving it a painful squeeze. “I am sure you will not be disappointed.”

“I should hope not,” Pierre stated flatly. He adjusted his watch and palmed a device into his hand. Le Coquelicot backed away and Pierre took a steady grip on Francis’ hip as he stepped up behind him. He rand his right hand along the underside of Francis’ member a few times, avoiding the pleasure center for the time being. “I require, at minimum, two minutes. Let’s begin.”

At once, Francis cried out. His attachment stiffened instantly in Pierre’s grasp. The thought of easily being able to go two minutes without orgasming quickly left his mind as the strongest vibrator he had ever endured pressed on both of his pleasure centers. A whimper escaped his lips. He rutted into the hand, unable to stop himself.

“Thirty seconds have passed,” Pierre muttered into his ear. Francis’ hips shot forward again, but Pierre’s grip never faltered having conducted the test many times in the past. Francis’ hands curled into fists as he tried anything in his power to maintain his composure. He hardly realized the moans were coming from him.

“One minute.” Le Coquelicot kept his distance, unwilling to interfere with the test. Pierre had moved his left arm to restrain Francis’ chest, keeping him upright as the robot’s knees shook. The circuits in his attachment burned with the desire to release, the electrical stimulation never straying from directly against his pleasure centers. There was a faint taste of oil in the back of his throat.

Francis never heard the next thirty second announcement. His body betrayed him and he cried out in relief and anguish as the artificially fluids sprayed from his attachment. Pierre abandoned his hold, letting Francis topple to the ground. He pitched face first into the carpet, too stunned to try and readjust to a less awkward position.

“One minute, forty-three seconds. I’ve seen better from cheaper models.”

“She can do better,” Le Coquelicot stated. Francis heard it as half insisting Pierre give Francie another chance and half a threat to his immediate wellbeing. Pierre studied Francis’ fallen form skeptically.

“You and I both know that’s rarely, if ever, the case for round two.”

“I am aware, but she learns quickly. The device was new to her,” Le Coquelicot insisted. He knelt down, taking a too tight hold on Francis’ shoulder and arm as he pulled him back up to a standing position. Francis kept his eyes downcast, unable to force himself to make eye contact with either man. His fans were still whirling from the intense session.

“Very well. I will conduct the test again. I will be very displeased if this is a waste of my time.” Le Coquelicot secured himself at Francis’ side to keep him upright as Pierre assumed the position from the last test. He announced the start of the test.

Francis felt the oil bubble up in his throat. There was nothing he could do to keep himself quiet. His hips lurched forward once, then a second time.

“That’s sooner than last time,” Pierre warned, pausing another second before giving the announcement of the first thirty seconds passing. Clamping his teeth on his lower lip, Francis fought the growing desire to lean into the touch. The first minute warning was given with a hint of less skepticism.

All of the circuits around his attachment burned. His member throbbed. At one and a half minutes in, he realized his vision was fritzing and static would flicker before his eyes. Pierre murmured something else, yet Francis could no longer comprehend. His knees buckled and his legs trembled.

He gave a few rapid thrusts in quick succession, shouting out as if to talk himself out of the act. Both sets of hands on him kept him close. The thought struck that if he did not allow himself to release the tension immediately, he would lose feeling in his pleasure centers and possible the use of his attachment. _Should I fail, I doubt I’ll have an attachment_, he managed to convince himself. Thoughts became increasing scattered as his body caved and he rutted into the hand one final time.

He found himself on the ground again once he came, humping the carpet as he cried out. His attachment burned as a second, smaller spurt of artificial fluids forced it’s way out from the residual feeling. Even with his eyes closed, static buzzed in front of him. He realized oil had been dripping from his lips when the taste hit him again.

“I will admit: I’ve not seen anyone like her,” Pierre stated, and the hint of admiration had returned. “That was nearly a minute better than last time. I’ll be in touch.”

Francis was left alone. He managed to roll to his side and out of the puddle of his own artificial fluids. A pain had festered and settled in his hips from the session. For a moment, he wished he had failed the test so that he would not have to ever deal with Pierre again. He shook it away and tried to sit up. The strength had left his body, so he resigned himself to curl up on his side before Le Coquelicot returned to reprimand him for screwing up the first round.

Le Coquelicot ended up shaking him awake when he returned. Francis groaned as he was forced face first in the carpet again. Le Coquelicot freed his arms and moved to unlock the spreader bar at his ankles.

“You were lucky he was in a generous mood and that we’ve known each other for quite a few years,” he warned, dragging Francis to his feet. Francis staggered at first, but his knees finally locked into place and he allowed himself to be bustled back up to his bedroom.

“Nevertheless,” Le Coquelicot finally conceded as he shoved Francis onto the small bed and began to wipe away the oil and artificial fluids that coated his front, “He is willing to consider you for his future events. Now, rest an hour. He took less time than I anticipated, so you will be working the corners tonight.”


	8. Captured

Captured

Coming to with a start, Francis went to reach for his phone to check the time. The chain above his head snapped taunt and held his hand in place.

“What the hell?” he muttered, giving the chain a few more jerks to prove to himself he was actually in handcuffs._ Glynn isn’t even into bondage. He just needs a couple of hard, fast rounds to take his mind off work. But we had finished? I was on my way home, I thought._ After one last pull, Francis gave up, scanning the dimly let room. He was surprised to find it much larger than his own bedroom, albeit much less furnished. The only furniture was the bed he was handcuffed to and a plain folding chair a few meters from the foot of the bed. Unlike his own room, the bed was pushed into a corner opposite of the single door.

_It’s a cell,_ he realized suddenly. _No windows, no vents, and just a door, most certainly locked._ Testing his feet, he found them loose, but the spreader bar securely attached to his knees negated any effects of the freedom. Inside his port, a large dildo writhed. He tried to pulse it out. When that failed, he attempted to slide his hips against the bed to dislodge it, but finally realized it was strapped on his legs near the conjunction between his hips and leg joints with no way to remove it without the use of his limbs.

_No matter. It’s small enough, it doesn’t hurt, although with the ferocity of the vibrations, it could get uncomfortable in the next few hours._ Flattening on the bed, Francis considered sleeping again. Awake or asleep, he knew he could not defend himself, especially in the bindings he was in, and figured resting was the best option in case he was not afforded the opportunity later. _At least LC will send his goons out to bring me home and receive my punishment. I’m sure he’s already called me a dozen times and has given up on my arrival._

His attempts at resting were interrupted as the door unlocked. Sitting up as much as he could, Francis glared at the door.

“Release me! My creator will have you arrested,” Francis threatened in the darkest voice he could muster. The intruder let out a hacking chuckle, spitting a wad of mucous on the floor when he began to cough.

“I’ve heard that one before. Your creator doesn’t give a rat’s ass ‘bout you. He’ll jus’ build another one. He always does.”

“He’s already sent someone to look for me! You’ll regret it if you don’t let me leave right now!” The greasy haired man snorted as if it was just another overused joke.

“Believe whatever will make you feel better, little girl. I gotta say though, you’s got a lot of endurance. That thing’s been in you for hours and you’s as dry as a bone.” He approached the side of the bed, hungrily staring Francis down. “I reckon you’s a dud or something.” Reaching out to flick the lifeless attachment, Francis gasped as pleasure exploded through his frame at the mere touch.

“What’s this? You nearly came from that little bit? You’s is something else.” The man wrapped his hand around the attachment, giving it a few hearty pumps as Francis readjusted his feet so he could thrust up into the motions. _Oh, Aku! It feels so good! Better than usual!_ Francis moaned, too distracted by the pleasure to even think about preserving his modesty. After another minute, the artificial fluids splashed on his chest. There was no break as the man started working on the second one. The pleasure was still much more intense than Francis expected; however, he knew himself, and knew his attachment should be oversensitive. Biting his lower lip, he tried to relax and to refocus his thoughts. Nothing worked, and he sprayed the artificial fluid again, nothing intelligible coming from his lips.  
“Strange this wasn’t hitting any internal sweet spots. I had it set on high.” The straps around near his hips were undone and the dildo was yanked out. Fingers replaced the toy, pressing systematically against ever centimeter. _He’s done this before. He knows how to look._

“You’s are a special one. You ain’t got no pleasure centers in your port at all! Makes my life a hell of a lot easier. Jus’ sit tight for a bit. The big boss’ll be in soon. In the meantime, I’m jus’ gonna empty out your tank. You’s ever cum and have nothin’ left? ‘Cause you’re gonna be doing that a lot, and I suggest you get used to it.”

The man knelt down slowly, groaning as one of his knees popped. He reached under the bed before rising back up. Francis had not seen the particular toy, but he did not care to find out what it did. He worked his lower half as far away from the man as he could manage. The distance did nothing as the man took hold of the spreader bar and jerked his hips back towards the center of the bed. He slipped a heavy duty sleeve over the attachment, causing Francis to unwillingly buck up into it. The sleeve was pulled down so that the tip of his attachment was free. The attached, knobbed dildo was slid into the port. To complete the hookup, the man strapped it around his legs again.

The device came to life. Francis raised his hips off the bed as he trusted in the air. The sleeve sent gentle pulses of electricity along the underside of the attachment as it tightened periodically. Francis found himself forcing out a meager amount after five minutes, a whine now bubbling in his throat. Between ejaculations, Francis still tried to free himself. By the time he no longer expelled any artificial fluid with the forced orgasms, he had long since given up and could do nothing but hump the empty air as he cried out at the overstimulation.

~/~

“I can’t eat anymore!” Francis gargled, the spoonful of clean oil dribbling down his chin. Clenching his teeth, he refused the next bite. Another forced orgasm made him cry out, giving Marcus, the man Francis assumed was in charge, a chance to shove the spoon back in his mouth. The greasy haired man, who Marcus had referred to as Brett, grasped Francis’ head and roughly tilted it back in an attempt to force him to swallow. Although the oil slid down his throat, Francis gagged, spewing back burnt oil as his body refused to accept any more of the high grade liquid.

“See, I told you! She won’t eat nothing!” Brett exclaimed, letting Francis’ head drop. “She’s trying to starve herself like that other one did a couple months ago.”

“I don’t think so,” Marcus stated calmly, finally setting the bowl down and shining a light at Francis’ chest. They had removed the chest plate so that they could monitor the fluids in his tanks. Francis had adjusted quickly to the discomfort, having been too distracted by the nonstop orgasms. _It’s been hours, but I won’t give in._

“She’s trying to eat,” Marcus continued, satisfied with the current level of fluids. “Had she wanted to starve herself, every bite would return ruined. She’s just taking longer than the others to adjust. I would have thought by now she would be a little more docile. Regardless, we’ll do interval oil breaks as opposed to a couple meals a day with this one.”

“Maybe she’s hungry for somethin’ else,” Brett smirked.

“Make sure you use the muzzle. I would not be surprised if she tries to bite you still. You are a feisty one,” Marcus turned his attention back to Francis. “We can’t auction you off at this rate, but I’m sure intensifying the process will break you soon enough.” Marcus elegantly rose to his feet, taking the half eaten bowl with him.

“Have your fun then move onto stage two of the process,” he commanded as he let himself out of the room. Brett dug in the box again, pulling out a metal muzzle. Francis bared his teeth. Each time Brett reached for him, he jerked his head away, snapping at the fingers when he had a chance. With a sigh, Brett lowered his hands. It took the remainder of Francis’ willpower not to celebrate his minor victory.

Trying a new tactic, Brett removed a pen sized device from his pocket. He stabbed it quickly into the attachment opening the next time Francis orgasmed. The scream echoed loudly in the room. Francis writhed as the electrical pain shot through his attachment and up his core. Coolant exploded from his mouth.

“I don’t wanna mess up your attachment, but I’m sure yous can handle another coupla round if you don’t cooperate.” Timidly, Francis let his mouth hang open so Brett could secure the muzzle. The metal pieces locked onto his upper and lower jaw, secured with a strap on the back. Francis bit down experimentally, but his jaw was set in place. Brett climbed on top of him, undoing his pants and stroking his member. Lining up his hips with the small opening in the muzzle, Brett forced himself into Francis’ mouth.

Francis gnawed against the muzzle until his jaw ached. He tried to inflict any pain he could with his tongue, refusing to pleasure Brett in the least. Nothing he did made a difference. With a few more hard thrusts, Brett filled Francis’ mouth. As he pulled out, Francis spat after him, spewing the cum from his mouth.

“You’s should have been a red head, ya feisty slut! We’re gonna sell you to the nastiest client we gots. He’ll have lots of fun with you. You’ll be lucky if you last a month!” Francis would have tried to retort, but another orgasm rocked through his frame. A wail left him as his tank had run dry again, the circuits burning at the lack of fluids.

“Why don’t you go a few hours on empty? That’ll set you’s straight. Plus, a nice expander in your port. That dildo ain’t doing a thing.” Brett removed the knobbed dildo, leaving the sleeve to continue stimulating his attachment. Pushing Francis’s legs back, Brett used him again, moaning happily as he filled the port. He did not bother cleaning out his own seed as he searched through the box of devices.

“Here we are! You recognize this from your training days?” Brett asked as Francis glared at the toy. “Takes ya back, huh?” Brett took the silver cylinder and rolled it at the entrance of the port. The thin prongs slid in easily, and Brett forced the broader hooks past the port lips to keep it locked inside. Twisting the protruding handle, the four prongs spread apart, expanding the port. Brett forced it open to the max before setting the measurements into the device. The prongs collapsed back to the thickness of two fingers.

“This one’s a lil’ different than what you’s had, I’m sure.” As he spoke, the expander forced the prongs to the set measurement in milliseconds. Francis screamed out as burnt oil spewed out the muzzle opening. It felt like the equivalent of his client with the largest attachment mounted him with no warning. The spreader collapsed as rapidly as it expanded, Francis’ port slowly shrinking to the normal radius. Before Francis was able to recover from the initial shock, the spreader spring-loaded into action again.

“We’ve fixed it up to go faster than what they usually sell. Enjoy, bitch! Maybe when you’s feel like cooperating, we’ll add some more fluid to your tank.” Brett chuckled at his own comments and left Francis alone.

~/~

Sound was the first sense to return as the helmet was removed. He heard two people milling about. The burnt oil and coolant spilled out of the inside of the helmet as it was eased off of his head.

“Turn that machine off and get it out of her,” the gentle voice commanded.

“Non. Non, not again,” Francis whimpered. _Don’t want to be broken in again! My port nearly collapsed last time._ The fucking machine that had been pumping full force into both ports slowed to a halt before the thick piece was finally free from his ports. For the first time since it had been put on, the orgasm inducing sleeve was removed from his attachment. It finally dawned on Francis that he did not recognize the voice.

_It’s the buyer. Oh, Aku! It’s the buyer!_ The ropes that had kept him suspended in place were lowered and Francis’ feet touched the ground. Without a second thought, he kicked off the ground, wringing a shout from the two people around him as the bindings came free and he fell face first on the floor. His legs refused to cooperate and he could only propel himself forward in short, scraping bursts. With his arms still handcuffed behind his back, he could not push himself up.

“Non! Stop!”

“Francis! It’s alright!” He jerked at the sound of his name. The captors did not know who he was and he had adamantly refused to tell them. _Could it be…?_

“I’m Heka. Your creator sent us to find you. You’ve been kidnapped. We’re going to take you home, alright Francis?” Francis was about to readily agree. _But I’ve missed work. Two days of it! I have to at least bring in one new client_.

“Let me work first! I just need a few hours!” Heka had knelt by his shoulders, trying to hold him still, but Francis thrashed again.

“You need to go home. Le Coquelicot has been so worried about you!”

“Non, he’ll be mad. He’s mad. Two hours. Give me two! I can’t go home empty handed!” Francis tried his hands again, screaming as he jarred his damaged wrists. Heka stroked his hair, whispering soothingly as the larger guard held Francis’ legs still.

“He is worried. You’re injured and tired. You must return home immediately.” As Francis calmed, still coughing up oil, Heka fiddled with the lock, finally releasing Francis hands. Le Coquelicot’s men each took one of Francis’ arms, gingerly pulling him to his feet. The second man held him upright as Heka wrapped him in a heavy comforter they had brought in. They escorted him to the car that was parked out front. Still not convinced that Le Coquelicot was eagerly awaiting his return, he tried to break away, but they held him firmly.

Heka stroked Francis’ hair, letting Francis rest his head on his lap. Whimpers filled the vehicle the whole time. As Francis began to recognize the streets, he fidgeted more violently.

“Relax,” Heka tried to soothe him. “You will be home soon.” Even though his hands and wrists ached, Francis held the blanket tight to him. He let himself be pulled out of the car, but his limbs froze up as he stood at the bottom of the steps. Francis flinched as the front door was thrown open.

“Oh, Mon Amour! You’re alright! My little flower, I was so worried!” Le Coquelicot threw his arms around the bundled Francis. Overwhelmed by the sudden affection, Francis’ legs finally gave way. Heka, along with Le Coquelicot, managed to keep him upright and guided him to the kitchen table. Le Coquelicot pressed a handful of kisses to his forehead, insisting he would be back in less than a minute.

When he returned, a hint of anger glinting in his eyes from what he had discussed with Heka, he hugged Francis’ head against his chest.

“They hurt you, didn’t they, Mon Amour?” Francis nodded, letting out a quiet whimper that he failed to keep silent. _I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I tried to come home. Don’t hurt me now!_ “My poor, poor, flower. I’m so sorry. I thought you would be safe! Are you hungry? Will you eat for me?” Francis gave a surer nod. “Good. Then I will examine you and treat your injuries, Mon Amour.”

Le Coquelicot heated the oil Francis usually ate. He dished out a large portion and sat it on the corner of the table, drawing out a chair so he could sit in front of Francis. After brushing the tangled hair out of Francis’ face, he offered the first spoonful. Francis ate greedily. Unlike the higher quality oil, he had no problem keeping down the entire bowl of the thinner liquid.

“I will fix you more in a little while,” Le Coquelicot assured him, leaning forward to plant a gentle kiss on his nose. “But I need to make sure there are no serious issues in your system. Let’s go upstairs to my bedroom. You will be more comfortable there, I think.” Coaxing Francis to his feet, Le Coquelicot took a firm grip on his shoulders to lead him upstairs and prevent him from collapsing. He had Francis perch on the side of the large bed, easing the comforter off of him. Once it had been completely stripped away, Le Coquelicot went to pull Francis’ knees apart to get better look at him.

A strangled yelp came and Francis jerked away from the touch. Le Coquelicot immediately backed off, holding up his hands to prove he meant no harm. Slowly, he approached, wrapping his arms around Francis’ shoulders instead.

“Why don’t I look through your hair first to make sure they did not hide any devices on the back of your head?” he murmured, letting his thumb graze along Francis’ lower jaw. After receiving a timid nod, Le Coquelicot held Francis still with one hand as his right hand wove in and felt along the scalp. He cooed gently to Francis whenever he whimpered. There was a distinct bump at the junction of Francis’ head and neck.

“Tilt your head forward, Mon Amour.” Francis heeded the quiet command. Brushing the hair away, Le Coquelicot swore under his breath.

“Oh, my poor flower! They have put you through so much! They’ve hardwired a pleasure looper into your system, which is negating the feelings of oversensitivity, but not the physical effects. How often did they try to force you to orgasm?”

“The whole time,” Francis mumbled with a shiver. Le Coquelicot pulled Francis into a tighter hug as he swore to the gods. Francis nuzzled into the chest as Le Coquelicot rocked them both.

“I cannot believe – They tortured you like this for five days!” _Five days? No, it was only two. It couldn’t have been that long._ Le Coquelicot held him for a long time until he himself had calmed.

“I must remove it. Forgive me, I know it will be painful, but it is no doubt discreetly burning up your circuitry even now. Before I do, I need you to answer some questions. Can you do that for me, my precious flower?” Francis nodded in the tight embrace, being rewarded with more kisses pressed to the top of his head.

“You are so brave. You are doing very well for being held prisoner for so long. Did they run you out of fluids?”

“Yes. They refilled them sometimes, but not towards the end.”

“And did they starve you?”

“No, but I couldn’t eat what they fed me. I … I couldn’t tell them why!” Francis let out a sob. “I c-couldn’t think right.” Francis trailed off helplessly, the reality of it starting to dawn on him.

“Don’t cry, Mon Amour! I have you now. I will have them caught and executed. They will _never_ hurt you again.” Francis could not help the quiet sobs, a thin trickle of oil making its way over his lips. Le Coquelicot kissed him until he stopped sobbing, dabbing at the oil with a cloth from his pocket.

“You’ve been through so much, and I hate to do this to you, but I need to get that chip out of you as soon as possible. I will be as gentle as I can be,” Le Coquelicot assured him. Steeling up his nerves, Francis nodded. He was eased face down on the bed, his head hanging off the side. Le Coquelicot retrieved a bucket and placed it underneath of his mouth. Before he began, he found some flat slats of metal to bind on the front and back of Francis arms to keep his wrist from moving. He tied them tightly, setting each arm back on the bed before he straddled his shoulders. He whispered all the affectionate names with scattered apologizes as he gathered the hair into a loose ponytail.

The scream rang out through the whole house. At first, Francis thought it was not going to be as bad a surgery as Le Coquelicot made it out to be. Two wires had been snipped with nothing more than a shock before every circuit from his core to his toes began to burn with the collective effects of the overstimulation. Mouthful after mouthful of oil and coolant spilled into the bucket. Francis wanted to roll out, but he could not coordinate his body to move. He heard other voices; however, the pain sent his vision into static and obscured the noise. Although he could not remember a break in the pain from passing out, Francis was still surprised to find himself lying on Le Coquelicot’s pillows when the pain began to fade and his vision came back into focus. The blanket had been pulled up over him, and he found himself held tight in a comforting embrace. Francis went to speak, but instead coughed up some of the congealed oil in his throat.

“You did so well, Mon Amour. You held perfectly still through the whole thing. I wished I could have put you to sleep for it, but it may have further scrambled your coding. When you’re ready, I would like to look the rest of you over. I did not want to put more stress on your system. I’m sure that you’re going to develop shorts again in the next few days.”

“What about work?” Francis shivered violently at the prospect.

“Oh no, Mon Amour!” Le Coquelicot seemed appalled that he would bring up such a matter. “You must rest! I have canceled everything for the next week. After that, we will only do home visits again, at least for a while. Before you go out on the streets again, I will have someone teach you some self-defense. There is a retired bounty hunter that may be willing to trade lessons for some of your services. But that will be much later. What is ailing you the most right now, my little flower? What can I do to help you?”

“My wrists hurt,” Francis choked out. Le Coquelicot nodded, gingerly pulling Francis arms on top of the blankets. He retrieved his maintenance kit and placed it on the bed next to Francis as he pulled up a chair. Taking Francis’ right arm, he undid the mock brace, making sure to keep Francis’ wrist straight. The arm was laid palm up on the bed.

Francis could not bear to look as the plates were loosened so Le Coquelicot could work on the underlying wires. His jaw locked as the weakened wires were replaced and the dented interior pressed back into place. Finishing the first and praising Francis for his cooperation, he took Francis’ left and did the same.

“How is that, my little flower? Better?” Francis tested his arms, frowning at the lingering pain, but pleased a jolt no longer fired up his arms every time he tried to move them. He nodded, relaxing his jaw and settling back on the pillow.

“Will you let me examine your ports and attachment? I’m sure they were not gentle with you.” For the first time, Francis denied.

“Non. Non, please, don’t!”

“Francis,” Le Coquelicot cooed, stroking his cheek affectionately. “I just want to make sure you are not hurt.”

“Not tonight! Please, I don’t want to,” Francis whimpered, another sob boiling in his throat as the fear of punishment settled in his chest. Le Coquelicot was quick to climb over Francis and slide back into bed. He pulled Francis close, doing everything he could to dispel the fear that had built up in Francis’ eyes.

“Not tonight, then. My little flower, I will not hurt you! Why don’t you rest? I will be right here beside you. Nothing will hurt you, alright?” Francis rolled into the embrace, nuzzling his head into Le Coquelicot chest. Relief flooded his system as Le Coquelicot rested his own head on top of Francis.’

“Will you … will you leave the lights on?” Francis whimpered. _I don’t want to be in the dark again._

“Of course. Do you want me to put some music on, too? I understand that you had been locked in a sensory deprivation helmet for quite a while, so a little background noise might help.” Francis made a noise of affirmation, feeling the exhaustion hit him hard. Le Coquelicot had just put on a gentle medley as he drifted off.


	9. The Bounty Hunter

The Bounty Hunter

Swallowing down his apprehension, Francis forced his trembling fist against the door in a weak knock. The cheap taxi Le Coquelicot had called for him had left a few minutes ago as Francis gathered up his courage.

None of his previous clients had been bounty hunters. Most were businessmen, with the exception of some well-paid guards and soldiers that tended to make up the larger sized clientele. While Le Coquelicot had said that Knox was retired and an acquaintance of his, Francis could not shake the feeling of dread. He forced himself to swallow hard to keep the foul oil down as he heard footsteps from within.

“You must be Francis,” Knox stated coldly as he whipped the door open. Francis nodded, extending his hand, which was gripped tightly. “And I’m sure Le Coquelicot told you all you need to know about me. Let’s get started. You have a lot to learn if you want to prove to that cheapskate that multiple lessons are in order.”

“I – I thought it was just going to be one session?” Francis stuttered as he followed Knox inside. Knox snorted as he pushed the door shut behind them.

“There’s no way in hell you’re going to learn everything you need in three hours. Not to mention, you need practice, unless you can pick up the skills on the first try. If that was the case, you should have just watched some videos and saved yourself the time. Or I guess I should say Le Coquelicot, the cheapskate. He’s as bad as Shadow. You’ll have to prove that it’s worth the investment for him. Me? I don’t care either way. I’ve got two well-functioning hands. Don’t think you’re doing me any favors.” Knox led the way past the small and sparsely decorated foyer to the equally plain living room, consisting of a large television, two recliners and a couch centered on the far wall. The walls were bare beige.

“So … where do you want me? Sitting or lying down?” Knox nodded into the room, crossing his arms.

“I would prefer if you were sitting. It’s easier that way,” Francis murmured to the floor. _And less likely that I will make a mistake._ Except Francis could not determine why he was so nervous. Knox was certainly not the largest client Francis had serviced in the past. Francis estimated he was only fifteen centimeters taller than him, with only slightly broader shoulders. He was not built like a huge combative soldier, nor generally intimidating.

_Maybe it’s because he’s dressed like Brett,_ Francis decided as he knelt between his legs once Knox had situated himself on one of the worn arm chairs. _Or perhaps because I don’t know anything about him. I don’t know what he thinks LC told me, but all I know is that he’s an ex-bounty hunter and supposedly reasonable in how long he wants me to pleasure him._ Francis forced a smile before opening Knox’s pants. Murmuring one of the few canned compliments about the attachment, Francis took the tip into his mouth. He did not want to risk the seductive conversation he was supposed to make as he did not trust his voice to hold steady at the moment.

His tongue teased along the tip, finally drawing out a low hum of approval. Taking another few centimeters into his mouth, Francis bobbed his head as he searched with his tongue. He easily found the three pleasure centers after a few seconds. He let his tongue trail along the attachment steams once the pleasure centers were activated.

Francis tensed when a hand rested on the top of his head. A hollow feeling spread in his chest as he cursed himself for being as scared as he had the very first month of working. He hated how much the attack had affected him. His head was eased into Knox’s shallow thrusts, his lips sliding gently along the shaft. As he bobbed his head faster, Knox rocked his hips forwards with satisfied moans. He received adequate warning before the artificial fluids filled his mouth a few minutes later.

“Would you like me to continue?” Francis posed with a warm smile. Knox merely chuckled at the false display.

“Nah, let’s get started. I want to impart as many skills as I can since I am assuming this will be your first and only training session. Anytime it gets too rough, you just shout ‘enough! I’m done.’” Knox ran through several simulations, teaching Francis how to break out of different holds. He made him practice each tactic several times before moving on to the next one. Knox started by doing a simple grab. He would take a strong hold on Francis’ arm or shoulder, teaching him to spin out and break the hold. Eventually he put Francis in a full arm lock. Francis kicked out and tried to writhe free.

“Kick in one spot harder. Go for my knees or shin,” Knox commanded.

“I don’t want to hurt you!”

“At this rate, you wouldn’t even hurt a fly!” Francis pouted at the insult and put more force behind his kick. Knox shifted his weight to keep his balance and his hold never faltered.

“Come on, _slut_,” he hissed in Francis’ ear. Finally set off, Francis put as much force as he could muster into slamming his heel into Knox’s right leg. Simultaneously, he threw his head back to knock into Knox’s lower jaw.

Knox stumbled back and Francis broke free. He whirled around angrily, his hands curled into fists. His eyes narrowed as he studied Knox, who was now chuckling.

“Good! I was getting a little worried there. Didn’t mean to get under your plates. You still good?” Francis nodded, the anger subsiding. “Alright. I’d like to get close and personal for the next one since I think it will be of a benefit due to …” he trailed off, frowning as he could not come up with a better way to phrase his statement.

“You’ve got an hour left before you’re supposed to return him, correct?” Knox posed. Francis checked the time as well.

“Yes, but don’t you want –”

“What’s more important: giving me a blow job or learning self-defense?” Knox shot back. “Actually, don’t answer that. I know who you work for. The correct answer is self-defense.” Knox directed Francis to lie on his back. Knox pretended to mount him, scolding Francis when he felt Francis’ legs automatically move away to give him space.

“I’m not a paying client,” Knox stated harshly. He walked him through how to position his arms and how to roll out of the hold.

“It’s getting late,” Francis murmured worriedly as Knox began to reset the simulation.

“One more time. I’ll drive you home.” Francis complied, fighting out of the hold a little bit faster, although he was finding himself growing exhausted from the four straight hours of training.

“On the way home, do you –”

“Not while I’m driving,” Knox shot down as he pulled onto the road. “I’ll say you are better than my hands, but it’s just not a high priority for me.” Knox turned on some rock music, gesturing to the controls if Francis wanted to listen to anything else. Francis merely sat with his hands in his lap, staring blankly out the window.

Knox pulled up to the gate and pressed the buzzer. Gregoire eventually opened the gate to admit them. Francis made one last half-hearted request to pleasure Knox.

“You spend too much time working. Wait, today’s one your days off, too, isn’t it?” Francis nodded with a shrug. “I guess I should have expected nothing less. I won’t make any promises, but do you want me to talk to him about making this a more regular thing? I’d hate to waste one of your off days –”

“Please! I would yes continue training,” Francis stumbled over his words at the prospect of having something – anything – to do on his off days. Typically, he would let himself sleep longer and maybe wander about the house so long as Le Coquelicot did not have company. Sometimes he would help out in the gardens, relishing the opportunity to wear something significantly more modest that could get dirty without punishment.

Knox gave a chuckle, shifting into park and killing the motor. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll have to really put on my bartending charm,” he grinned as he walked Francis in. “Wish me luck!”


	10. Holiday Special

Holiday Special

“Well aren’t you a pretty one?” the client sneered as he walked in the room. “All tied up with a bow! Just the way I like it.” As if programmed to respond, Francis tried to spew one of his canned phrases. He had forgotten the ball gag that filled his mouth. Even if it was not there, he likely could not produce anything coherent as he was completely distracted by the high intensity vibrators strapped to his attachment.

“Tongue tied, too, it seems. How very nice.” Francis watched helplessly as the client stripped off his navy slacks and folded them before leaving them on the lone chair in the room. As a professional under Le Coquelicot for seven years, he did not even widen his eyes as he caught sight of the thick attachment. Instead, he secreted some of the lubricant to his front port in preparation.

The position was new to him and he wondered exactly how the client was going to penetrate him. He was suspended in the air above the bed in a seated position, with knots around each knee and a few loops around his chest just below his arms to keep him upright. The odd part was the height of his ports. Usually they would be higher up and more accessible from a standing position. Tonight, he was positioned a quarter meter above the bed and he guessed the client would have to be directly below him for the best access. He might have thought about if more before his thoughts drifted to the growing urgency to cum. A thin droplet of artificial fluid had made it to the tip, yet that was all that dribbled past the specialized cock ring. The device was tuned to his frequency which prevented ejaculation when snug around the base of his attachment. It usually was not a problem, and would not have affected him after Gregoire had secured him in the current position; however, Le Coquelicot had added the vibrators as an extra touch for the holiday special he was running.

As expected, his client laid beneath him. Two fingers were shoved up into his front port. They moved in a scissoring motion as they tested the give of his port. The client began pumping them inside while still spreading them apart. Francis was thankful that he had no pleasure sensors in his port for once, as his hips trembled at the attachment stimulation. Bored of just fingering him, the client slid up further on the bed, lining up his stiff attachment with the front port. Exploring hands ran along Francis’ inner thigh and plucked at the garter belt straps.

“I can’t wait to destroy that pretty little pussy of yours. I hardly doubt it’s big enough for my cock!” Having heard the brag from numerous clients, Francis paid it no mind. It slammed full length into his port with little more than a soft grunt from him. The client placed his feet flat on the bed as he jerked his hips up into Francis. After a few minutes of the rapid thrusts, the client finally caught Francis off guard.

He pulled his attachment out in one smooth motion and plowed into the rear port. Francis shrieked behind the ball gag as the metal attachment ground against his unlubricated port. After a few thrusts, the pain stopped as the client switched back to the front for a few thrusts. Too distracted by the ever-cresting orgasm, Francis was unable to figure out how to make the motions less unbearable. Each thrust into his rear port had him crying out in pain. Even the lubricant that clung to the client’s member from the front port did little to ease the friction. Eventually, when the client realized Francis would not lubricate the rear port, he stopped switching and just pounded up into the rear port. The lack of lubricant increased the friction and Francis could not help but clamp down against the embedded attachment as the pain sizzled up his core.

The fading blue eyes were squeezed shut as Francis tried to swallow down the burnt oil. Static still flashed across his vision until the client finally bucked up one last time. The artificial fluid gushing into his port provided swift relief. He moaned in almost bless as his circuits stopped burning from the rough thrusts. The reprieve was short lived as the client began to fondle the parts of his own attachment that were not covered by the vibrator or straps. Fingers teased the already sensitive tip as Francis begged for him to stop. The gag muffled all of his pleas as the client simply mocked him. Burnt oil began leaking from the corners of his mouth.

“Aw, can’t handle a little bit of orgasm denial? What kind of sex bot are you, anyway? A pathetic one, I can tell you that! I guess I can help you out since it is a holiday,” the client trailed off with a sneer. He slammed his hips back up into Francis a few more times before pulling out of the rear port and letting his artificial fluid drain onto the bed. He stood and undid the knots supporting Francis’ chest. Francis’ shoulders and back hit the bed. The client considered undoing the ropes holding up his knees until a better idea struck. He readjusted the rope until Francis hips were a full meter off the bed.

“I’ll bet your thirsty, too,” the client sneered, leaning down to unhook the ball gag.

“P-please … M-monsieur. N-need to,” he stammered out, his hips thrusting out in vain.

“Like I said before: Pathetic! You’re supposed to beg for my cock, you stupid slut.”

“F-fuck me,” Francis managed to whisper, “b-but take off the – the AHHH!” His teeth clenched as the thick attachment slammed back in his rear port. Too much of the artificial fluid had drained to help reduce the friction. He chirped every time the attachment moved inside of him, scraping the walls of his port. The client began stroking Francis’ attachment roughly. The thumb massaged the vibrators firmly against his attachment. Francis’ jaw was clenched so tightly he thought he might dislocate the joints.

“Alright, open wide!” Francis did what he could to try and relax his front port, the memory of the rapist from the past week still fresh in his mind from when he had tried to take a short cut.

“Open your mouth, you stupid slut!” The words took another moment to sink in and the client had to repeat the demand before Francis understood. His trembling jaw was forced apart.

The ring was loosened. Instantly, Francis felt the artificial fluids gush out of him like a tidal wave. The resulting splatter covered his face and hair. The second spray had less force and merely coated his upper chest. For another few seconds, the artificial fluids unnaturally trickled out of his attachment as if it were draining the reserves.

“You’re a fucking mess! Seems like nobody taught you any manners!” the client chuckled as he pumped into the rear port. He waited until the stream of artificial fluids had stopped trickling out of Francis attachment before reaffixing the ring. A whimper fell from Francis’ lips, yet the vibrators were less painful during refractory period. It finally occurred to him that he should lubricate his rear port now that his thoughts were not clouded with the need to cum. The client sighed in disappointment as he continued to pound inside of him. The fingers squeezed the tip of Francis’ attachment again, as it caused him to involuntarily tighten his ports in response to the pain. His rear port was filled again and the client managed to plant a small load in his front port before his session ended.

Francis could not remember much of the second client for the evening. All he knew was that the sounding rod in his attachment was intensely annoying and he was laying face first in a puddle of artificial fluids. Managing to get one of his hands free from the ropes around his wrists, he jerked out the sounding rod with a hiss, ripped off the vibrators which had thankfully run out of charge, and promptly powered off as he laid on the floor. He hated the holidays.


End file.
